


The Magnitude of His Fury

by emansil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chan, Dark, Incest, Isolation, M/M, Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Violence, Obsessive Love, major character death of a sort, possessive love, psychological dub/con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:32:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emansil/pseuds/emansil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens to a young boy when his father’s love becomes too possessive, and the eventual impact of too much meddling by outsiders. This is a dark fic, do not let the beginning or the fairytale style convince you differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Magnitude of His Fury

** The Magnitude of His Fury **

In a beautiful manor in the county of Wiltshire, there once lived a young boy. His hair was soft and touchable, and as pale as corn silk. Grey eyes were bright and caring; a spark of blue gave them a hint of mischievousness. The boy was sweet and kind. The house-elves that served his father, their master, adored the boy. The feeling was reciprocated. The house-elf Bendle was the boy’s special favourite.

Scorpius -- for that was his name, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy-- and his father Draco Malfoy lived, save for the house-elves, alone in the manor. Where his mother was, whether she left to be with another, died of some tragic disease or was currently residing in the Malfoy dungeon was unknown. She was no longer part of the household; what happened to her is not important to our story, except that by her presence she may have saved her son from his father. 

At night in bed, Scorpius often dreamed of a woman. One whose hair was as pale as his father’s, but her eyes were brilliant blue- not steel grey. She was soft and warm and cared for Scorpius. Although he only remembered her in his dreams, he knew she had been real. She had held him and told him stories of daring heroes and evil villains. Scorpius’s greatest desire was to be a hero and not a villain. 

The dreams then became dark and scary; yelling and bad words were used. Words he was not allowed to utter. Books, dishes and priceless heirlooms were thrown around the room. Wands were raised and pointed. 

In his dreams (or was it a memory?) he was sitting at a table, playing with his Harry Potter - the greatest of all heroes - action figure. The tension in the room was thick. Scorpius felt he would suffocate. He could not breathe. He may have cried; he doesn’t remember. A few words from his father and Bendle removed him from the room. He never saw the woman again. Over time he learned not to ask about her. 

Scorpius and his father were happy. His father doted on him and gave him anything and everything he could ever want, except for perhaps the one thing that Scorpius pined for; his freedom. Like a bird in a gilded cage Scorpius was imprisoned by his father’s love and possessiveness. And like that same bird Scorpius wished that one day the door to his cage might be left open, little knowing that when that time came, it would be too late. Contact with others was not allowed. Draco would provide for all of Scorpius’s needs. The house- elves, while nice enough, were not the company a small boy would want. Warm and loving, Scorpius had been born to enjoy the company of others. 

Lucius’s part in the war had seen the transference of the ancestral home from Lucius to Draco. The manor was large and beautiful, full of magical things and priceless artefacts and books. Books on every subject one could image. Learning to read at an early age, Scorpius devoured the books, especially those tales of evil times and the daring heroes that saved the world. Reading these tales brought him feelings of warmth and comfort he never understood, but he did not trouble himself with them. 

Scorpius read of his own family’s part in the war with Dark Lord. His family had not been on the same side as the hero’s, but the tales told of certain events that took place, events that made him proud to be a Malfoy. Scorpius never asked his father about this. His father loved him, of that he was sure. If his father had made mistakes in the past, Scorpius thought he was perhaps a good man now, but of that he wasn’t as sure.

****

Draco did love his son; Scorpius was everything Draco could ever want. His beauty, his goodness, was such that Draco could never be with his son enough. So completely did he love Scorpius, hours and hours would he spend just watching, as one watches the setting of the sun, alert to the subtle changes of light and shadow. As the years passed, Draco grew to covet his son’s company over all others. The pride he felt at Scorpius’s birth had him wanting everyone to bask in the wonder that was his son. As time went by, however, the thought of someone else, any one else, becoming more important in Scorpius’s heart than him was unbearable. His possessive love of Scorpius began to wrap around his heart and soon warped his mind. Scorpius was his.

The first casualty was his wife, Scorpius’s mother. When she hinted that Draco’s love for his son was unnatural, Draco made sure her influence on Scorpius came to an end. Only Draco knew to whence she had disappeared. If only he had rid the manor of her presence before she had brought that thrice-damned Harry Potter action figure doll into the house. 

When his parents, Narcissa and Lucius, spoke to him of preparing Scorpius for entrance to Hogwarts, Draco balked. Excuses as to why they should no longer be part of their grandson’s life were many and varied. Lucius’s suggestion that Durmstrang might be a better choice caused Draco to change the wards, forbidding his parents entrance without his expressed permission. Permission was always denied. Anyone who wanted to send his beloved Scorpius to the cold and bleak location of Durmstrang was no longer welcome in Draco’s home. Like the woman before, his grandparents disappeared from Scorpius’s life. Only years later did he learn of their banishment by his father. 

As months blended into seasons and seasons into years, Draco and Scorpius grew to depend on each other for their exclusive happiness. Their days were spent together. A breakfast of fresh fruit and yoghurt in the morning was followed by some basic lessons in magical theory. Draco ensured that Scorpius never suffered from a lack of formal education. Work in the potions lab, the source of Draco’s continuing wealth, took up their afternoons. 

Dinner was at eight each evening. They dressed for dinner. Living alone was no excuse to give up one’s social graces, his father often said. After dining the evening would most often be spent in the study. His father would work on the accounts, while Scorpius would play, or on occasion read aloud to his father. However, the nights when Draco's workload was light, were evenings Scorpius grew to dread. 

Once the work was done, his father would often drink. His beverage of choice: Glenfiddich, neat. The earlier the work was finished the more time he had. As the evening progressed, so did Draco’s consumption of the beverage. Those evenings brought discomfort to Scorpius. His father’s behaviour did not change, yet there was a difference. The intense stare of his father, the darkening of the normally pale eyes. The way his hand would constantly graze the front of his trousers, the small noises his father would make at those times. It all served to make Scorpius feel uneasy. As the evening progressed his father’s vigilance as well as his inhibitions would diminish. His father became someone else on those evenings. 

Unusual noises coming from his father’s room awoke Scorpius after one of these evenings. Thinking his father was in danger, Scorpius ran to him. Unable to comprehend what he was seeing, Scorpius stopped at the door, paralyzed with confusion. His father lay on the bed, his naked body shimmering from the light of the moon. Scorpius had often seen his father naked; there was no modesty between them. What he had not ever experienced, however, was his father’s face so pink, or the sounds coming from him so harsh and breathy. His father’s hand was holding his penis, and he wasn’t using the loo. As Scorpius watched, his father moved his hand rapidly up and down, over and over and over… Scorpius was shocked; he’d never seen his father, or anyone, do that. Wasn’t it dirty? Was it safe? Was it something Scorpius should be doing? His father had never taught him that, and his father taught him everything. 

The expression on his father’s face puzzled Scorpius. Unsure what to do or think, he could only stand immobile. Was this something his father enjoyed, or should Scorpius try to save him? Something told him this was a private moment, but he could not bring himself to leave. His feet felt plastered to the floor. He had to see how it ended. His father arched himself up off the bed, his hands moving even faster than before, so fast it was a blur. Then Scorpius heard his father speaking his name. 

“Oh yeah, that’s right! Yeah, Scorpius that’s it, there! Touch me there. Oh! Oh! Oh!” panted his father. 

And then stuff— white, thick and creamy — spurted from his father’s penis, something Scorpius had never seen. Even though he tried to remain silent, he must have made a noise. 

His father’s eyes flashed opened and Scorpius found himself staring into depths of steel grey. “What the fuck are you doing in here? Get out! Now! Do you hear me? Get the fuck out of here!” His father roared. 

Scorpius ran. 

He spent the next three days in torment. His father had never yelled at him before. Never! The fear that he might lose his father’s love was intolerable. It made him sick to his stomach. He’d have no one if he lost his father. All that he was to his father, Draco was even more to him. Scorpius vowed to be the best son ever, if only his father would speak to him again.

****

Three days passed before Draco could speak to Scorpius about what he’d seen. His loss of control in front of his son had embarrassed him. The fact that it was the image of his beautiful eleven-year-old son that had caused this loss of control did not shame him. Scorpius was his son, whom he loved more than he’d ever loved another. It was only natural that it had happened this way. Draco had been taught this by his father, who had been taught it by his father, and on back through the generations. The tradition would continue with his son; his only regret was that Scorpius had happened upon him unawares. Seduction should be taken with caution and preparation. He would take care to guide Scorpius properly, not like his father had done with him. Draco had no wish to harm his son.

On the third morning, while finishing the last of their morning tea, Draco broached the subject. “Explain yourself. Why were you in my room?” 

“I heard noises. They frightened me. I feared there was danger. I came to help you.” His voice was low, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry, Father.” 

“And would you have?” 

Scorpius’s eyes shimmered and his lower lip quivered. He said nothing, afraid of what the question might mean. 

“Would you have helped me? Would you have done for me, what you saw me doing?” 

Scorpius shook his head. He did not think he wanted to do that. Why, he was not sure, but it did not seem to be a thing heroes would do. 

“Not even if I asked you? What if I pleaded with you, if I told you, you had to do that in order to keep my love? Then what?” 

Silent, Scorpius shook his head. No. 

“Very well, please leave. I have work to do. You may spend your time in the garden; perhaps you feel the peacocks and the other creatures more deserving of your love and affection, as it appears I am not.” Draco turned and walked from the room.

****

The next weeks passed in torture for Scorpius. He missed his father, but Draco seemed not to be affected by their estrangement. Each day after lunch he excused himself, leaving Scorpius to spend his afternoons alone.

Scorpius’s sadness grew. His father’s love was everything to him. It soothed him when he was hurt; it comforted him when he was sad. Losing it would be as death. Whatever his father asked of him, he would do.

****

Draco smiled from his bedroom window. He’d watched Scorpius every day of his exile, knowing the day would come when Scorpius would no longer tell him no. Scorpius must come to this decision on his own; no amount of yelling and anger would bring him to this point. Only the gentle, yet persistent snub of his father could accomplish that.

A knock on his door interrupted his musings. Scorpius had arrived sooner than Draco had expected. But like his father and his father’s father before him, once Scorpius reached a decision, there was no stopping him. 

“You may enter,” Draco said after the second knock. 

Scorpius entered; his face pale. “Father, I’d like to change my answer.” 

“Answer to what, Scorpius? I don’t recall there being a question.” Draco made sure his face was perplexed yet loving. 

He watched as his son swallowed, his still childlike Adam’s apple bobbing. Scorpius’s nervousness pleased him. 

“I would do it, you know.” Scorpius looked down, shuffling his feet, as he spoke. 

Bare, Draco noticed, bare and slender and elegant. Draco longed to fondle each one of those lightly browned toes with his tongue. Had Lucius wanted to do the same to him when he, too, neglected the wearing of shoes? 

“Do what? I know what? Scorpius, if you have something to say, please say it.” Draco’s voice held only mild annoyance. 

“When you asked if I’d be willing to touch you like that, what you did to make the white stuff come out of you. I would, Father.” Scorpius’s head was bent and his voice was soft as he spoke. Raising his head he looked directly into his father’s eyes. “I would do anything. Just please talk to me again.” 

Pleased, Draco stood and welcomed his son back into his arms and his good graces.

****

The owls that had plagued the Manor since his eleventh birthday became even more insistent on the day he turned thirteen. The wards were strengthened and owl after owl plunged to its death each time one hit the spelled barriers. This saddened Scorpius, who had a love of all living things, especially those with wings. Their freedom to fly away to parts unknown kindled a yearning in his soul. A longing, he no longer recognized, filled his heart.

“What do they want? Why do they keep coming?” he asked his father when yet another owl plummeted from the sky, much like his wand had, when he’d thrown it out the window in a fit of pique when he was twelve. He’d paid for that with another rebuff from his father. Scorpius had learned to keep his anger inside. 

“Headmaster Charlie Weasley’s inability to take no for an answer.” 

“Headmaster? Headmaster to what?” 

“Hogwarts. The school of wizardry and magic they think you should attend. That’s not going to happen. I can teach you everything they can and more.” A flick of his wand and the owl burst into flames and then ash, the same as all the others. 

“Is the school far? Could I maybe try if for just one year?” Scorpius said before he could stop himself. The thought of being with others, any others besides just his father, brought forth a hunger he had not known was inside him. He waited, terrified of his father’s displeasure. The wait was not long. 

“You want to leave? After I’ve spent my life teaching you, making sure you were happy, giving you everything you could ever want? This is how you wish to repay me?” The disdain dripped from his father’s voice, and the hurt. The pain in Draco’s voice evident as he said, “Very well, I’m sure something could be arranged.” 

Scorpius scowled, confused by what his father was saying. Would he really let Scorpius go? “Maybe I could go for just during the week, and come home on the weekends?” he said, still bewildered by the words of his father. 

“Come home on the weekends? Oh no, I don’t think so. If you go— if you choose to leave our home, and me -- you won’t be coming home. They’ll never allow you to leave, and I’m not sure I would make the effort to go against their wishes.” Draco’s voice lowered yet he continued talking as if to himself. “Perhaps I’ll travel. I’ve always wanted to visit the Amazon. Maybe gather some magical ingredients; discover new potions of my own. Or maybe the islands of the South Pacific; they’ve some fascinating plants growing there.” 

His father turned away from him while Scorpius stood speechless. Try as he might to stop them, he felt the tears form. He could only stand helpless; disbelieving that his father could cast him aside so easily. 

Draco stood abruptly from his chair and turned toward his shelf of books, surprise on his face. “Are you still here? I thought you’d be packing to go to Hogwarts. I’m sure they could send someone right away to take you. They seem most determined to have you.” 

“I don’t want to go,” Scorpius said, his voice barely a whisper. 

“What?” Draco snarled. 

“I said, I’m not going and neither you nor that Headmaster Weasel person can make me.” Crying openly now, a hiccough escaped him and he sniffed loudly, but he no longer cared. “Don’t make me go away from you, Father. If you want to travel to those places, we can go together.” 

“I don’t know, Scorpius. I’ll have to think on this some. It may be time for you to leave me.” 

“But I don’t want to leave you.” Scorpius’s soft voice whispered as he left the room. 

Draco smiled as the door closed behind his son. Scorpius was where he wanted him; it might be time to claim that which had been promised two years previous.

****

Fear that his father might still be angry with him, or worse, not angry, but still determined to send him away, brought panic to Scorpius. A feeling he’d not experienced in several years.

Understanding his father’s love of beautiful things, Scorpius dressed with care for the evening meal. He showered, shampooing his hair until it shone like gold in the candlelight and the warm glow of the fire. Bendle had recently trimmed it for him; his father did not like it long. Dressed in the quality robes Draco had purchased for him, Scorpius was ready. 

The feel of the soft cashmere wool against his penis when he entered the dining room that evening left Scorpius feeling flushed; the recollection of his father’s chambers and what he’d seen two years ago was fresh in his mind. Draco had once mentioned casually that real wizards never wore anything beneath their robes. Following his father’s wishes was foremost in Scorpius’s mind as he closed the door behind him. 

The atmosphere in the room told him something untoward was going to occur. There was no obvious change in his father’s behaviour; over the years Scorpius had learned to discern subtle signs. If questioned he could not have said what it was that lead him to this belief. Maybe it was the fact that his father’s eyes shone a little darker, or perhaps it was the breathiness with which his father spoke, although he tried hard to cover it up by speaking slower and more succinctly than usual. It could even have been the piteous looks of the house elves whenever he caught them looking at him. Scorpius recognized everything that was happening around him, as if viewing the scene in a pensieve taken from his own memories at age eleven. This time the ending would be different. He suspected. 

Since that fateful day when Scorpius had agreed to his father’s wishes, it had never been mentioned again. It hung over them like a cloud. Never sure when the storm would come, Scorpius had dreaded the setting of each day’s sun, expecting to be called to his father’s room. The tempest never came, and eventually he forgot about the cloud hanging over his life – until tonight. Now the clouds grew thick and heavy around him; the storm would break before the day’s end. He prepared himself to do whatever his father asked of him, with no hesitation, for that was the promise he had made.

****

With no intention of ever letting his son leave his side, Draco was pleased when his son entered the dining room. Stunning, Scorpius had obviously taken time with his appearance. Draco could see from his unnatural gait that he was wearing his robes in the manner he'd suggested. A wizard of Draco’s talent had no problem keeping an erection at bay, if he should so choose. Scorpius did not yet have this level of expertise. Seeing this sent the blood surging to Draco’s cock.

No spell would mask his erection tonight. Scorpius would see and remember. It was time for him to earn his place in his father’s heart. Payment, for the promise made many years ago, would be required tonight. 

After a dinner of stuffed quail, duchess potatoes, fresh spring asparagus and a disgusting treacle tart, all Scorpius’s favourites, Draco instructed the house elves to set the fire in his chambers, as well as pour two snifters of brandy. They were then to depart and not disturb them until morning. Anything Scorpius might need, Draco would attend to. 

“I thought since today is your birthday and you might be leaving me soon …” 

“No Father, I’m not going,” Scorpius interrupted. “I don’t want to. Please.” The pleading in his son’s voice stoked the fire in his veins. 

“Very well son, it’s all right. So you won’t be leaving me at this time, but still a celebration is in order. A young man of thirteen should be able to enjoy a small glass of brandy in his father’s chambers. Come.” He held out his hand, and Scorpius moved to his side. 

Father and son walked hand in hand down the silent hallway, anticipation of what was about to occur weighed heavily on both of their minds. “Did you wear your robe as I requested?” Draco asked once they had entered the room. He already knew the answer, but felt Scorpius needed to acknowledge it. The only light was from the fire roaring in the massive fireplace and the silver glow of the moonlight entering the floor- to- ceiling windows, the drapes not yet drawn. 

“Yes, Father. I wanted to make you happy.” 

“Come. Let me see.” Draco relaxed into his chair motioning for Scorpius to approach. “Unfasten the garment starting at the top, one button at a time, if you would, please. Slowly,” Draco coaxed when Scorpius fumbled at the buttons in his nervousness. "You’re behaving like a Greengrass, no finesse at all.” Scorpius slowed and soon the robe stood open. 

Draco looked his fill. This was not the first time he’s seen his son naked. It was, though the first time he gazed at his son as one would a lover. Before the night had ended, Scorpius would recognize Draco’s caress as one of sensuous pleasure. Scorpius’s erection was minimal. Draco was confident he could change that, if not tonight, in the days to come. 

“Very good. It brings me joy that you want to please me. Shall I show you the evidence of my pleasure?” 

Scorpius nodded. 

“Come here. I’ll show you.” He opened his robes as he leaned back against the leather of the chair. 

Scorpius crept forward. His eyes focused on Draco’s prick, as it rested against his stomach, curving upward. He reached out and touched it tentatively. 

Draco couldn’t help it; he released a small moan when Scorpius’s hand touched him. Reaching down, he wrapped his hand around Scorpius’s and snarled, “Harder, grip it harder. Oh yes, that’s it. Now move your hand up and down, stroke it.”

****

From that day, Scorpius belonged to Draco completely. He’d never known such happiness before. Everything he did or thought or felt was as a result of this day. Scorpius had no point of reference, no one or nothing to tell him there was wrongness to what occurred between him and his father; no one to tell them nay.

Draco took things slow with Scorpius; there was no reason for him to hurry. He did not want to bring any harm, or cause any fear in his son. Touching and kissing was the totality of their earliest physical interaction. Scorpius learned fast and he grew to enjoy their activities as much as Draco did. 

Soon Scorpius was the one asking for nights with his father. 

Mouths followed touch not long after. Soon Scorpius was bringing pleasure to Draco with his lips, as well as receiving it. The first time Draco swallowed his son’s come was one of the happiest days of his life, surpassed only by the first time he sank his cock into Scorpius’s willing flesh. 

His son’s beauty and goodness grew to an almost blinding level. Like a pool of clear water in the sun, Scorpius’s brilliance shone. Bright and quick was his grin, a flash of white teeth and a small dimple on the right side of his mouth that showed only when he was extremely happy. The dimple was seen more often than not, as he was an exceptionally happy young man. There was nothing he wanted for. 

A part of Draco wanted to share him, wanted others to see his son’s brilliance. He knew that could never be; he could not take the chance that his son would one day choose to leave him.

****

_It is an interesting thing in the world of men, be they Wizard or Muggle. The things or people we most want to keep secret are usually the ones discovered and quite often by our greatest enemies, as it did with Draco and Scorpius. Try as hard as he could, Draco could not keep Scorpius secret for long._

****

Scorpius’s bliss for the next few years was unimaginable. His father loved him and worshiped him with his words, his hands, his mouth, and that, which told Scorpius above all else of his father’s love, his cock.

By age fifteen, he was even more striking than his father had been at that age. Taller and with legs that seemed endless. More fit than his father ever was, if Scorpius had been as a colt at age thirteen. He was now a young stallion, a thoroughbred, spirited and free. Anyone who saw Scorpius would want to ride him; be the one to break him. Draco made sure Scorpius was never seen. His dedication to keeping Scorpius secret took most of his time, so deep was his obsession. 

The eyes had darkened, taking on more of the grey of his father, but the glint of blue still remained. Now, mixed with that hint of mischievousness, was a knowing that had not been there before. The dimple on the right side showed only so often now, but when it did, Draco’s cock filled with blood and soon he would be pushing it into to that open and eager mouth. 

If Scorpius's happiness was bliss, there were no words to describe Draco’s. Never in all his years, especially those of his adolescence, had he ever expected to find that which brought him such joy. He never tired of telling Scorpius of his love for him. 

Scorpius absorbed his words and his love, drinking them in. Like a young sapling in the forest that receives fresh air and sunshine and plenty of rain; Scorpius grew into a loving young man, strong, healthy and happy.

****

Scorpius’s sixteenth birthday required him to be in the garden alone. He suspected his father was making elaborate birthday plans. The double-sided dildo, he’d hinted at as possible gift, sounded promising. Draco used the excuse that he had complicated potions work that would take his full attention. It was possible, but Scorpius doubted it.

A gentle breeze was blowing. Clouds scattered across the sky played hide and seek with the sun, warm against his skin. The chirping of the birds in the higher boughs was a pleasant lullaby as he rested on a stone bench under the large oak. The fresh and gentle fragrance of the honeysuckle and the mint that grew along the gate relaxed him even more. He closed his eyes. It had been a long night. Sleep had come late and morning early. Dreaming of the possibility of a new toy, he fell asleep. 

Startled, he jerked awake, wondering what it was that had awoken him. His hand still in the fold of his robe, where he’d been touching himself before falling asleep, he chuckled, and sat up. There it was again, the noises he had heard in his sleep. He looked up; someone, standing just outside the gate and out of the reach of the wards, was looking at him. 

Once there had been a time in Scorpius’s life when seeing another person, anyone other than his father, would have made his heart soar with gladness. Now there was only surprise, and a sense of impending doom. He had no memories of seeing another, outside of his father and the house-elves, since he’d been a small child. 

There was something about this person, the dark hair, the nice smile and the green eyes, that brought back memories from long ago. Memories of someone soft and blonde with twinkling blue eyes and a gentle laugh, and tales of evil times and daring heroes told to him, as he sat on the edge of his seat. And there had been a doll - a Harry Potter action-figure doll. 

_Scorpius could not know this, but the earth as he knew it had just shifted on its axis. His world was about to spin out of control._

Scorpius sat, spellbound, his voice a whisper of awe as he said, “Harry Potter?” 

The figure started to say something when his father’s voice, loud and strident, full of anxiety and fear, came from behind Scorpius, begging him to return to the manor. He took one last look at the vision and hurried away. Scorpius had learned at an early age; his father was no fan of Harry Potter. There would be no pleasure at finding him just outside the wards. 

The surprise he felt upon overhearing his father arguing with another man when he returned the manor was great. He knew his father often did business with other wizards, but never when Scorpius might overhear, or worse, when they might see him. The events of the past hour were too much for him. He retreated to the lower level. A recent find of a room previously undiscovered would hold his attention until the man was gone. Overflowing with books he’d never seen before, and magic he never knew existed, Scorpius soon forgot about the man and his father. 

That evening was the first night Scorpius had ever felt pain with his father took him. The penetration without preparation was swift and harsh. The words, “Fucking Harry Potter, fucking interfering bastard,” streamed from his father’s mouth in a repetitive cycle as he ravaged Scorpius. 

He must have seen Harry Potter outside the wards, must have seen Scorpius talking to him. Draco’s fear that another would take Scorpius away never died. Telling his father over and over again of his love and of his faithfulness always did little good. Still Scorpius tried.

****

Lying on the rug in front of the fire, Scorpius moaned against the rug’s softness. His father’s tongue lapped gently around his opening. Sore from the adventures of the past week, adventures starring the special birthday gift his father had indeed purchased for him. Draco was taking extra care and time preparing Scorpius.

 _Crack!_ The sudden noise of Apparition caused them to jump. 

“Oh my God, Malfoy, what are you doing?” The man he’d seen at the gate stood before them, only this version was older, much older. If the one before had looked like the Harry Potter of his action figure, Scorpius realized this one was probably the Harry Potter of his father’s youth and therefore the real Harry Potter. The Harry Potter from the gate had looked warm and friendly if somewhat timid. This Harry Potter looked anything but. 

Scorpius’s robe lay across the back of the settee, where it had landed as his father had undressed him earlier. “Get dressed. I’ll take you to a safe place.” Turning his head away, not looking at Scorpius’s nakedness, the man handed his robe to him continuing to speak. “I’ll reset the wards, so he can’t escape. He can’t hurt you anymore.” 

_Leave? Why would he want to leave? His father hurt him? His father wasn’t hurting him. His father loved him._ A glance at his father, whom he expected to be raging with anger was instead pale and grey, his arms wrapped around his knees pulled up close to his chest. Draco nodded at Scorpius and motioned for him to do as the man said. Where he had expected defiance, Scorpius saw defeat.

****

Harry Potter, his hero, the world’s hero, was speaking to him; at least Scorpius assumed he was speaking. His mouth was moving, but Scorpius was having trouble following what he was saying. Knowing how upset his father became when his attention would lapse. Scorpius put a calming hand on his own internal panic and focused.

“Scorpius, what you and your father did, were doing, is wrong. Fathers and sons don’t engage in that type of behaviour.” Again Scorpius was having trouble focusing on the words. How could it be wrong? He felt so happy in his father’s arms and he knew Draco felt the same. 

Scorpius, who had never been outside of the manor, was frightened by the size of the Ministry. Luckily, the Auror’s office was empty, except for him and the Head Auror. Otherwise it would have been too much for him. This almost was. 

“I’ll leave these for you to watch. You do know how to use a Pensieve, correct?” Harry Potter, saviour to the world, villain to Scorpius, was saying as he placed several small phials on the table in front of him. 

Scorpius nodded and turned away. He just wanted him to leave. The trapped feeling inside him was beginning to feel like a boulder sitting on his chest, suffocating him. 

The shadow of the setting sun moved across the charmed ceiling. Was it possible the sun was only now setting? He felt he’d spent an eternity in this room, instead of less than an hour. There was nothing for it. If he wanted out of this room, he would have to look at the memories. Whose memories they were, he had no idea. He broke the seal on the first one and poured the substance into the Pensieve.

****

The full moon was shining, the sun long ago descended, when Scorpius finished the last phial. His devastation was complete. Something broke inside him. All his life, his trust and faith in two people had been absolute. His father, who had loved him and cared for him, of that he had no doubt, but loved him in a way that was wrong. Draco had known it was wrong. His father’s memories, he had just seen were proof of that knowledge. Yet still, his father had done it, had manipulated every situation so he could do this foul thing to Scorpius. _But was it really so foul?_

He’d made sure that anything and anyone that could have saved Scorpius was removed from their lives. The beautiful blonde woman from his dreams had, until just a few years ago, been imprisoned in the dungeons. An unknown magical malady had been her demise. She had been there all along. If only Scorpius had known. If only he had found her. His grandparents banished from him. What if they had fought, had insisted on staying? Would anything have been different? 

And, Harry Potter, the hero of Scorpius’s childhood, the person he’d believed in almost as much as he’d believed in his father. Scorpius felt more anger and betrayal towards the saviour, than he did his own father. Without his interference, Scorpius would never have felt the sting of the ultimate betrayal by his father. Their life and their love would have continued unchallenged. Why had he not just left them alone? It was too little and too late; a surge of anger flew through him. It was no one else’s business what he and his father did. They weren’t bothering anyone, had never bothered anyone. His father had made sure of that. What right had they to interfere? Everything he’d ever believed in was ruined.

****

The days and weeks that followed brought Scorpius a pain and bewilderment he’d never before experienced. His past was a lie. His father, the only one who had ever loved him, had twisted and turned events and words to ensure Scorpius belonged to him, and no other.

So thorough was his success at this, Scorpius refused to press charges. Draco was allowed to remain at home and under house arrest until the trial. Many hours were spent in the garden, the only place the two of them could spend time together without the constant presence of a chaperone. 

Plans were made for Scorpius’s future. Hogwarts was to be part of that future. Lessons learned at the hands of his father guaranteed adequate placement at the school. Draco informed Scorpius that marriage must be part of his future as well. The Malfoy name must continue. The continuation of the tradition he left to his son. There was no need to ask what tradition his father was referring to, he knew. Just as he knew his father would never see the inside of Azkaban. No, Scorpius had other plans for his father’s future. As for the marriage, he would wait and see how that would best serve his purpose for revenge. 

Revenge there would be. A person’s life could not become as thoroughly ruined as Scorpius’s without the people responsible feeling the magnitude of his fury. Not even his Bendle, who had known, but had done nothing to save him, was exempt. His father and the hero of his childhood were the two that would feel his retribution the most. The only question was how. 

Hours were spent in the hidden room on the lower level. Volumes of dark magic, as well as little known and highly dangerous magical artefacts, crowded the space. A tiny and unobtrusive phial marked with a simple A.V., in his father’s elegant script, captured his attention. After years of working by his father’s side, Scorpius knew the importance of detailing the purpose as well as the ingredients of a potion. That this phial stood on its own was suspect. Hours later a very, very tiny parchment, found separately and written in his father’s hand explained much to Scorpius. He understood how his father had been able to hide the whereabouts of his mother for all those years. _Anti-Veritaserum_ would serve Scorpius well in the days to come. 

His plans formed, Scorpius’s Slytherin traits came into play. He was not his father’s son, his grandfather’s grandson, and down through the generations of Malfoys for no reason. Charm and manipulation, learned over sixteen years of living with his father, was brought into use on the day before his father’s trial. 

Harry Potter’s presence was requested; he did not refuse. Scorpius knew he wouldn’t. Harry Potter never refused the request of anyone in their time of need. It would have been better for him if he had. 

A walk in the garden near the pond, where the statues of Pan and other satyrs stood, assured Scorpius of Harry Potter’s presence in the right location. Scorpius imagined there was conversation between the two of them, but he honestly could not remember it nor did he care. His attention focused solely on the task in front of him. 

“The texture of this one is so life-like,” he said, pointing to the statue of a satyr that stood across from a tall and elegant birch tree. “Feel how life-like it is. The sculpture really captures the essence, don’t you think? It’s almost as if there was life inside the stone.” It wasn’t at all life-like, Scorpius knew, but that didn’t matter. He just needed the touch of Harry Potter's hand on the satyr as the final words were said. “Or perhaps, it’s just been waiting all these years for someone to come along and bring it to life." A wave of his wand, and the transformation was complete. 

Scorpius returned to the manor alone. Anyone looking closely at the satyr next to the birch would have been surprised to see a glint of emerald shine from the depths of the satyr’s eyes. 

Manoeuvring his father into the right place at the right time was even less troublesome than Harry Potter. It was ridiculously easy. 

Draco’s mirth at seeing the great Harry Potter, the bane of his existence, transformed into a stone satyr was short lived. Leaning against the birch as he laughed, Draco’s humour soon turned to horror as he felt himself becoming immersed into the tree. The small phial held in Scorpius’s hand as the words of magic were said sealed his fate. Draco recognised the potion. It was one of his. The truth would never be learned, unless Scorpius himself chose to share. 

Draco’s pale skin and grey eyes blended into the light colouring of the bark. Only by passing the tree when the early morning sun shone on the eastern side of the tree, could anyone have recognized the sharp and pointy angles of a once upon a time student of Slytherin. 

Like the dryads of Greek Mythology, as long as the tree lived, Draco was bound to it. He could never be more than a few yards away; the pull of magic too strong for him to resist. The death of the tree would also mean the death of Draco. 

Release from his imprisonment, and the sexual appetites of the satyr, were not possible for Harry Potter, only the complete destruction of the statue could accomplish it. Both spells were untraceable and irreversible.

****

Harry Potter’s disappearance shocked the entire Wizarding World. Search after search was conducted. His introduction to the rest of the trio of the evil times of the past, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger Weasley, no longer brought Scorpius the joy it once would have. Questioned over and over each time he gave the same answer: Harry Potter and his father had taken a walk together, leaving him behind. He’d waited for them, sure they would return soon. Sleep must have overtaken him. The glare of the eastern sun and the loud chorusing of the morning birds, along with the deep interior silence of the manor, told him he was still alone. He’d instructed Bendle to notify the Ministry officials at that time. As he spoke, Scorpius played with the now shrunken phial disguised as small piece of dirt under his fingernail, expecting at any moment for someone to examine it closer. They never did.

The next week, as previously planned, Scorpius arrived at Hogwarts. Immediately sorted into Slytherin, the plans for his future were cemented when his new dorm-mate Albus Potter introduced him to his sister Lily. A Gryffindor, like her father and mother, Lily presented a challenge for Scorpius’s skills of seduction. Marriage, it appeared, would be in his future after all.

Five Years Later

Scorpius and his bride, Lily, returned to the manor to raise their children. Lily had planned for a large family; Scorpius intended to have only one: a son. As Scorpius once belonged solely to Draco, Lily belonged to him. The seduction of his lovely wife complete, his every wish she tried to fulfill. She cried the first time he took her from behind, but soon learned to accept it, though her pain never diminished. She fought it when he bought a strap-on and asked her — no, told her — to use it on him. Not taking no for an answer, he charmed and cajoled her into doing as he wished.

In nice weather, they sometimes fucked in the garden by the pond. The thrill of knowing they had a captive and unwilling audience fed his lust. The anguish and horror he knew her father must be experiencing, as he watched; unable to save or protect his little girl, would send the blood coursing through Scorpius’s veins. Even when Lily was unwilling, he’d force her, all but raping her as her father looked on. When she grew fat with her pregnancy, he continued to take her by force. Her fears and anguish charmed away by his words of love and seduction. She always seemed to believe him. What other choice did she have? 

On occasions he would bring other men there and allow them to claim him in front of the birch and the dryad, always making sure Draco saw his pleasure at the touch of another. If he closed his eyes and let his mind return to the years of his adolescence, Scorpius could almost imagine his father to be the one penetrating him. However, his imagination was not that strong, and the desperation he felt at why that never could be again curled inside him like a poison. 

On other nights, Scorpius visited the garden alone. As he spoke the words _”finite incantatum staticus”_ the stone satyr would come to life, as would the dryad as he randomly released them from the spell that imprisoned them. Once awakened, they enacted their routine. A routine he knew they’d willingly die to abandon, but Scorpius held tight control of the magic. 

Such simple spells they were. Years of reading of the daring deeds of Harry Potter had taught Scorpius well. Sometimes simple really was the best. _Staticus Petrificus Totalus,_ kept them in their frozen position, until released. The simple addition of the first word of the original spell insured their escape would not occur by a haphazard _finite incantatem_ thrown nearby. 

Scorpius would stroke himself, the pleasure in his loins growing as the satyr ravished his father over and over. Each thrust of Harry Potter and each scream of the dryad feeding his lust. His father deserved more of a punishment, he knew, but it was the best Scorpius had. Draco’s lack of control over the when, the where, and even more importantly, the who, perhaps obliterating the pleasure at the burn of the large cock inside him. No one knew better than Scorpius, his father’s need to control. 

Draco’s need to be punished during their years together was now understandable to Scorpius. Afraid of his father’s retribution, it had unnerved Scorpius at the time. Draco must have thought the punishment received from the hands of his son, his victim, made what he had done and continued to do acceptable. He was wrong. 

Harry Potter’s inability to overcome the more dominant personality of the satyr, no matter how he hard he fought against it was another salve in Scorpius’s damaged soul. Harry Potter must have thought by saving Scorpius from his father. Leaving him alone, with no one, was helping Scorpius. He too was wrong. 

The heroes of Scorpius’s life: the hero of his childhood stories and aspirations— Harry Potter, and the hero of his life— his father, had destroyed him. They were the cause of this agonizing pain, a pain that festered like a cancer; as it grew and mutated and destroyed him from the inside. There was no cure.

****

The bright and silvery light of the full moon shone on the still pond as Scorpius entered. Having released them as he first entered the garden, he arrived in time to see the satyr throw back his head in anguish, his cock still buried deep inside the dryad.

 _“Stupify”_ Scorpius said, twirling his wand in his fingers, and watching as satyr’s dripping cock slipped from still spasming arse of what used to be his father. Scorpius felt a pulse of lust surge through him. He wondered what the satyr’s cock would taste like. Would it taste of his father, would his father’s scent still linger, or was that part of Draco that no longer remained? He doubted he would ever know the answers. Now, he wanted to share the good news. 

“Lily and babe are resting comfortably. I have a son, did you know? He’s quite beautiful. Hair’s a lovely reddish gold, strawberry blond, I believe it’s called. His eyes are sort of a turquoise colour, simply stunning. It will be a pleasure to carry on the Malfoy tradition with him. He’s a bit young now, but I can wait.” He smirked at the two of them, never knowing how much like his father he looked when at that same age. “Patience is a Malfoy trait, is it not?” 

“We’ve named him Hyperion James, after the two of you. Lily insisted we name him after her father, whom no one’s seen for the past five years. I, of course, had to name him after my father, who surprisingly also disappeared at the same time. I promise to raise him the same way I was. He’ll know his father’s love, just as I did. ” He smiled as the satyr, motionless and unable to speak stared at him, its eyes wide with horror and despair. The dryad, also mute, looked into Scorpius’s eyes; understanding and acceptance passed between them. 

Scorpius walked away, and as he did the words, _“finite incantatem stupify”_ , released the magic that had kept them from their more instinctual behaviour while he had been speaking. Soon the sound of a rustle in the bushes and the slap of skin against skin let him know the ritual had begun once again. It would continue through the night, until either he or the rising sun returned them to their static forms. 

The smile, as he returned to the manor, never reached his eyes. The glint of mischievous blue they had once held now gone forever.

****

_Once upon a time, in a beautiful manor in the county of Wiltshire, lived a young boy named Hyperion James Malfoy. He and his father, Scorpius Malfoy lived alone, with only the house- elves for company. No longer allowed in the Malfoy manor, Bendle was not among them. Where the beautiful woman had gone, the one with the red hair who told Hyperion stories of her brothers and cousins and a family so large he could only marvel at it, he did not know. He learned not to ask of her._

_Sometimes, in the evenings, his father would go to the garden down by the pond. Late would be the hour of his return._

The end

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this story comes from a Modern Fairy Tale by Walter de la Mare, “The Lovely Myfanwy”. While reading the tale, I knew it would make a perfect back drop for a Draco and Scorpius story. Thank you, Koshweasley, for giving me the perfect opportunity to try my hand at fairy tale writing, of a sort. I hope you enjoy. I’d like to thank my betas for their wonderful assistance with this fic. W and W and O, and most of all, for her encouragement and massive hand holding along the way, T. I could not have done it without your help.


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